Anticipating Leah
by AutumnRiver13
Summary: When soldier Leah Andersson is kidnapped and tortured for information about a group of supernatural people she didn't know existed, she becomes a ever-faster ticking time bomb. Then, Victor Benedict comes to her rescue and it's onesided hate at first sight. But will Victor be able to convince her of the truth soon enough to defuse her and eliminate the threat to all of their lives?
1. Chapter 1

**Voilà! My new fanfic about Victor and his soulfinder Leah Andersson. This actually takes place **_**before **_**my other story Convincing Kira so Kira isn't featured in it. I hope you enjoy and as always, please leave a review!**

**Disclaimer: None of the Benedicts/the Savant World belong to me. All rights to the amazing Joss Stirling! **

Chapter One – Leah POV

„Why did she do it?

"Is she mental or something?"

"It looked like she did it on purpose"

Confused by all the agitated voices, I squint slightly as I open my eyes. What are they talking about?

"This will have to be reported. The girl sacrificed herself without any thought." Me.

Captain Belgrove's distinct gruff tone won't accept any retaliation. But I have to try. I can't just be put on the back line waiting for the people in front of me to get killed so that I can step over their bodies pretending I'm still strong and tough.

"Sergeant Andersson, you're awake." First Lieutenant Russell has entered the infirmary and wears a concerned look on his face. "You feeling alright, Sergeant?"

Not quite trusting myself to speak, I just nod and reach for the glass of water on the little bedside table.

"The incident will be reported, Sergeant."

I shoot up, ignoring the pain in my head and shake my head frantically.

"Please, sir. You cannot. I was just doing my job."

"Your job was to complete the task successfully and with as few lives lost as possible. Your job was not to put yourself purposefully in harms way and think that counts as a sacrifice."  
>"I-" I break off. I know full well that one cannot argue with Lieutenant Russell.<p>

"How did you survive the attack anyway?" Russell asks and quickly glances towards the door. He isn't supposed to ask this question. However, I have no idea how to answer it anyway. I guess 'I pulled electricity out of the nearby lamp and used it to keep my heart beating' sounds too strange. That's the slightly annoying thing about my existence. My body's refusal to die.

"I don't remember" I lie and flop back down onto the hard matress. Russell takes that as his cue to leave, not before ruffling my hair the way he always does in an affectionate, fatherly way. He has no idea -

For as long as I can remember, I have been able to get stronger by … absorbing power, mostly in the form of electricity, into my own body. It's abnormal, I don't know why I can do it and that's why I enlisted. I need to die. What is happening to me – the moving stuff around with touching them, the reading minds, the power stuff – is not normal. How am I supposed to survive in a world when if they find out, I'll be stuck in a mental institution? So I have to get rid of myself before they do.

The infirmary is pitch dark as I wake up and I need a few minutes to adjust. And just like that, an escape route forms in my mind. Out of the infirmary, up the stairs along the corridor to the other side of the base, downstairs, out the door, past the guards, and underneath the fence.

Shortly after Russell left, Captain Belgrove charged into the ward, handing me my form of General Discharge, accompanied by the words "You're going home, Andersson!"

This is my worst nightmare come true. I can't return home, not to my parents. They pretended to be proud when I told them I'd enlisted but I think they were just glad to be rid of me.

So, now I'm sneaking across the corridor connecting the two buildings of the base, attempting freedom. I can't blend in with the locals, what with my blonde hair and big green eyes, but I could flee somewhere up into the North. And from there, perhaps back to the Caspian Sea, where I was born. Private Ferris and Private Thornton are on duty at the West entrance tonight but they are so engrossed in a conversation about LeBron James that they do not notice me sneaking around the fence and over the barrier. I run about two miles before stopping at a little rickety clay hut and take a deep breath. Is this what freedom smells like?

Does freedom really mean having to sneak around behind clay huts and wash the blood off your face with muddy water? But before I can even get back up again, my mouth is covered by a pair of dirty hands and a rifle is shoved against my temple.

_You scream, we shoot!_

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	2. Chapter 2

Chapter Two – Victor POV

Soulfinders. Everywhere. At my brother's house, in Mum and Dad's house, just not in my house. I'm slipping. I am throwing myself into my work more than ever and I know that Mum hates it. I'm hardly ever at home but I really don't know what I'm supposed to do around all those mushy, loved-up couples that call themselves my siblings. The only reason I agreed to drive down to Wrickenridge is that Crystal has offered to find my soulfinder for me. Uriel has gone all chicken and is really scared that he'll find his soulfinder is dead or something so he's quite hesitant about the whole thing. And Will … he's just Will. Laid back, not a care in the world, totally chillax or whatever he calls it.

"VIC!" Mum calls and engulfs me in a massive hug.

"Hey, Mum", I mumble and make to disentangle myself.

"Don't 'Hey Mum' me! I haven't heard from you in over two weeks, young man. Explain yourself!"

"Had stuff to do at work" I grunt and shove past her.

"Hey, Vic" Crystal greets me less patronizingly as she leaps down the stairs and doesn't quite suffocate me with her hug.

"Ready for the big moment?" She asks and I can tell she's feeling a bit apprehensive about all of this.

"Sure" I say and have to repress a groan as Xav bounds down the stairs and ruffles Crystal's hair which she retaliates with a slap in the stomach which he responds to with a kiss. I just hope my soulfinder won't be up for such cheesy crap.

Everybody is gathered in the living room. And I mean Everybody. Sky is perched on Zed's knee with his arm slung loosely around her waist, Phoenix and Yves are cuddling in front of his laptop where they are probably watching The Notebook or something, Xav and Crystal are arguing about who gets to sit on the big comfortable bean bag, and Trace and Diamond are having a whispered conversation which for some reason involves touching each other in every sentence. Mum and Dad are the only ones who are seemingly able to keep it together.

"So, let's get this started" Crystal says, who, after losing the argument, is now wrapped in Xav's arms who's sitting in the beanbag chair.

I take a seat opposite and carefully let my shields down, something I do very rarely in this household or ever at all. I sense Crystal's consciousness carefully treading in my mind, searching for the soulfinder link.

"Oh", she says and pulls back.

"What?" I ask and slowly an image creeps into my mind.

"Umm..." She exchanges a scared look with Xav as I slam my walls back up.

_**Tell me. **_

"Cut it out" she snaps and I can tell that she's pissed I tried to use my compulsion on her.

"Prison, Farah, Afghanistan."

"Prison?" I breathe. What has she done? Is she in trouble?

"She's innocent but she's being held captive in a prison in Farah."

"You can tell she's innocent?" I ask and she looks confident as she responds, "She's got a kind soul."

"Is she a local or a soldier?"

"I'm afraid I don't know."

"There's a US military base about ten miles from Farah" Yves cuts in. "You could start looking there."

"Hang on" Mum says, "Vic, honey, you can't just go … flying out to Afghanistan. There is a war going on there."

"And I need to get my soulfinder out of there" I say and pull Mum into a hug.

"I'll be fine, Mum. I have a couple of colleagues who've got connections out there. They'll get me there safe."  
>"What will you tell them about your reasons for getting your soulfinder out of prison? You can't just go in there saying you're a Savant" Zed asks.<p>

"I'll … create a cover case." Or something. I would never admit it to my brothers but I don't actually have a concrete plan.

"Oh, Vic" Mum sighs and looks at Dad for help.

"Mum" I say before Dad can butt in, "I'll be fine. I'm 25 years old, I can handle myself, I'll go over there, I'll get my soulfinder out, the end."  
>"C'mon, Vic", Will says, "you of all people should know that it's never <em>the end <em>if your last name is Benedict."

"Yeah, but with all the butts I rescued, I think I know how to handle it by now."

"Vic!" Mum gasps and exchanges a worried look with Dad.

Shit, that might've gone too far.

"If you need anything, I'll be upstairs packing."

And even though they all make an effort to keep their voices down, I still hear snippets of the discussion caused by my departure. _Slipping – lonely – not himself. _

Of course I'm not myself without my other half. Without the person that makes me complete. Without my soulfinder.

Chester, a friend of mine with an extraordinarily useful telekinesis skill, is able to organize a flight from the army base near Pueblo in the early evening so I've only got fifteen minutes left before I have to leave. Mum is, of course, crying with Dad trying his best to comfort her. The rest of them all look like this is gonna be the last time they're gonna see me despite Zed's mental message that I'll make it out alive.

"Good luck" Crystal whispers as she hugs me and Sky must've sensed my apprehension as she gave me an extra-long hug and a consoling pat on the shoulder that I barely feel.

"Hurry up so I can go looking for mine" Uriel says, surprising us all. However, I don't elaborate on his order and just reach over to pull him into a hug.

_Don't worry, I will. _

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	3. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer: None of the Benedicts/the Savant World belong to me. All rights to Joss Stirling. **

**WARNING: There are descriptions of violence in this chapter (i.e. torture) so if that's not your thing you can skip the middle ;) ) **

Chapter Three – Leah POV

Until I was eight years old, my parents and I lived in north Germany, in a neat little cottage at the Baltic Coast. It was there that I first heard the idiom "Die Ruhe vor dem Sturm" – the lull before the storm. Back then, before the incident at school that forced us to move, I felt safe even though there were incredibly terrifying storms every month - because I was inside, in my mother's arms that didn't refuse to hold me yet, and she kept murmuring in my ear that it was outside and that it couldn't harm me.

Now, I don't feel safe. I know the next storm is about to come but my mother's arms aren't around me, nobody's whispering comforting words in my ear and I know that the next storm is going to harm me just as much as the first five did – if not more.

* * *

><p>It is more. Much more. Fire ignites my veins but not in a mushy love kind of way. It burns them, it paralyzes them, it kills them slowly. That's what it feels like. Like my body is being torn apart (which it kinda is by this monstrous torture machine that's pulling my arms away from my torso), like …<p>

My scream echoes through the concrete cell and I don't even try to bite it back this time. Tears run down my cheeks, mixing with the blood from a slash on my cheekbone and further down with the remains of my breakfast that came out of my mouth during the second session.

I hear a cackle from the human killing machine next to me, who bends down close to my ear and whispers, "Why don't you just tell us what we want to know, sweetie, and we'll let you go" His breath is hot against my ear and drops of saliva touch my neck. I force myself not to let any more tears fall at the contact and put on my best poker face.

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"That's what all those idiot criminals in crap TV series say, don't they?"

"I wouldn't know now, would I?" I say before I can stop myself and I have to bite back a scream as his knife swipes across my stomach again, leaving a large gash.

"Just tell us, or we'll make sure that none of those Americans get hurt at the base."

Tell them what? I wish I could convince them that I truly do not know what they want from me. I do not know about –

"Aamir!"

The machine straightens up immediately and his smug grin is wiped off his scarred face completely. I force my aching head to look toward the door and almost laugh at what I see. I would really laugh if my stomach didn't hurt so much. A tiny, oompa-loompa like man waddles towards Aamir, takes the knife from him and wordlessly gestures to the door. I guess that's the Pashto way of saying "P*** off".  
>Aamir leaves but not without throwing me one last malicious look at me behind his boss' back.<p>

"Please accept my apologies, Miss Andersson, my son-in-law can be a little … intense sometimes."

I feel sorry for his daughter then. The man's English is flawless and neither from his accent nor from his looks can I really tell where he's from. His hair is dark like everyone's around here but his skin is too pale for him to be a local. His accent lies somewhere between Indian and Russian. As he moves forward, I instinctively lean back against the wooden restraints digging into my back though I refuse to look away from his almost black eyes.

"Miss Andersson, this…" He gestures to my face, my shoulders and my stomach, the most damaged areas of my body, "this would be so much easier if you were just willing to cooperate with us. I believe us to be on the same side."

"Is it the good or the bad side?" I ask and can see a twinkle in his eyes at my seemingly witty reply.

"My dear Miss Andersson, the world cannot be divided into good and bad. There are shades of grey between the black and white."

"Let me guess, there are fifty of them?"

The man doesn't get the reference and crouches down in front of me.

"Let me start with a proper introduction. My name is Abdul and I just want you to tell us what we want to know. We know that you have acquired some information on the subject and we would just like you to convey that information to us."

"I'm sorry but I have no idea what you're talking about." I refuse to let myself be one of these sobbing blonde chicks in movies who scream and beg for their captor's mercy.

"Miss Andersson, we asked you a very simple Yes-No question. We already knew the answer to it but you still lied to us. And lying must be punished." As if summoned, Aamir strides into the room this time with two ropes and a head band, grinning like it's Christmas day.

As he fastens the ropes on the wall and tightens the headband around my forehead, Abdul asks once again, this time leaning so close to me that his sweaty nose bumps against the metal of the headband.

"What do you know about Victor Benedict?"

The pain starts all over again.

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	4. Chapter 4

**Disclaimer: None of the Benedicts belong to me – all rights to Joss Stirling. **

Chapter Four – Vic POV

Suffocating heat. Cough-inducing dust. Nothing but sand and stone. Fine, slightly exaggerated but to me, right now, it doesn't look like a warzone at all. That is until I hear that American accent I missed after more than 24 hours of being cooped up in a military plane with an annoying newbie, whose constant optimism and cheerfulness makes me want to reach for the nearest bucket. Turning around, I find myself facing a strongly tanned, middle-aged face and a pair of steel-grey, cold eyes that are staring right at me. I try to do my best to hold the man's gaze and I have to breathe in my sigh of relief as he holds out his hand.

"First Lieutenant Russell. You must be Victor Benedict. And you have brought an assistant I see."

I grip Lieutenant's hand firmly, my masculine pride suddenly feeling threatened (Though Xav says my long hair makes me less masculine by nature).

"Yes, this is Jared Greenberg, my … assistant. It's a pleasure to meet you."

Greenberg just gives him a slight nod and backs away again quickly. Wimp.

"And I believe you need to speak to one of my protégées urgently."

Lieutenant Russell manages to make nothing he ever says sound like a question or anything indicating a possible insecurity.

"Which one?"

_**Focus, Vic. Remember the plot. Don't lose the plot!**_

"I'm afraid there was a problem with the correct identification of the woman back in the US and I have not yet received her registered name."

Lieutenant furrows his brow and cocks his head slightly to the left, evaluating my sincerity. I stare right back.

"Well, Mister Benedict, if she's female, that leaves a number of four possible candidates for your investigation." His voice is dripping in sarcasm and his lips form a superior smirk. Sensing my growing annoyance and frustration, Russell drops the expression and wipes the sweat off his forehead.

"My apologies, Mr Benedict. I haven't been feeling great today – one of my soldiers has gone missing. A couple of days ago."

I quickly glance around the soldiers that have gathered around Lieutenant and me and spot three of the four women at once. They all look much older than 26.

"What's his name? Perhaps we can assist in your search."

"Leah Andersson, one of the women. She was actually in the hospital wing up until Friday evening when Captain Belgrove and I saw her last, next morning she was gone."  
><em><strong>Leah Andersson. <strong>_Music to my ears. Something about that name makes total sense in my mind, creates a perfect harmony – _**Focus, Vic! **_

"May I speak to Captain Belgrove?"

"No. You and Mister Greenberg will be coming with me to identify your candidate."

"Sir, I have reason to believe that our candidate _is _Leah Andersson."

"And what reason is that, Mr Benedict, may I ask?"

_**I felt a pull in my heart telling me that this girl is the love of my life. **_

"I have already looked at the other females. None of them match the physical description of the woman we're looking for."

"What is that physical description?"

_**Beautiful, stunning, amazing. **_

"Blonde hair, green eyes, around 5'5''." At least I did enough research on female soldiers currently deployed in Farah.

"That'd be Leah for sure."

"So may I please speak to Captain Belgrove? I volunteer to assist in the search."

"What d'you think this is, kiddo, the freaking Hunger Games? We don't volunteer, we just do. Besides, it was pretty clear from the start that you would be assisting the search. She's your candidate. Got herself in enough trouble by volunteering as it is."

"What's that supposed-?"

"Lieutenant Russell!"

At once, Russell stands straight as if a pole has been shoved up his rear end and jerks his hand up to salute. I turn to see a stocky, tall man in his fifties marching towards us, equally stiff as Russell. This has to be Captain Belgrove. He turns to me in one swift move and gives me a hard stare as he asks, "Name?"

"Victor Benedict. I was sent by the FBI on investigation about Leah Andersson-"

"I have ears, boy. I could hear you from a mile away, you'd make a right lousy soldier. Stevens!" He turns away from me and points at a young man in his early twenties who looks positively petrified as he is addressed by Captain Belgrove.

"Get Agent Benedict a uniform. You know how to use M16 rifle, I assume." He hands me said weapon and leaves, throwing the words "Leaving in five" over his shoulder.

Sensing my ignorance with the rifle, Russell quickly pulls me aside to explain it to me before leading Greenberg and me to a small room where I could change into the camouflage uniform I was handed. If Mom could see this, she'd have a heart attack. Not even one hour in the warzone and already wearing uniform and carrying a M16 rifle.

It's almost dusk as we set off towards the village on the other side of the valley. Belgrove's guess is that she's being held captive in one of the local houses. I'm trudging along at the back of our group of around fifteen as I let my conversation with Russell run through my head again. _"She got herself in enough trouble by volunteering…" _

I jog forward slightly to catch up with Russell and nudge his shoulder to get his attention. He jerks to the side as if I've just woke him up from a daydream.

"What did you mean when you said that Leah's got herself in enough trouble by volunteering?"

"First of all, don't ever touch me again." The soldiers behind us snigger before Russell glares at them, silencing them immediately.

"Second of all, bit early to be on first name bases with Leah. What's this investigation actually about?"

"That is confidential. It would infringe her privacy. I asked you a question, I would like you to answer it." I say with as much dignity as I could possibly muster and have to hide my surprise as Russell actually starts saying something that sounds like a normal answer.

"Sergeant Andersson was – is – prone to overestimating her abilities or should I say, underestimating her importance for this team."

Seeing the look on my face, he sighs and tries again.

"You know how I said that Captain Belgrove and I had last seen her in the hospital wing before her disappearance? Well, she was in there for throwing herself in the direct line of fire during an attack on the base. She saved about five lives but was quite badly injured with slashes and bruises all over her body. She's done it before. Throwing herself in harm's way and thinking that counts as a sacrifice."

"Doesn't it?" I ask and feel the urge to hit him over the head for sighing again.

"Agent, in the army, the soldiers' job is to protect themselves and each other. But foremost themselves because if everyone sticks to doing that, we're mostly left with as little casualties as possible. However with Leah, the strange thing aren't the sacrifices. It's how she survives them."

I look up to see if his conspirative tone is a joke to lighten the mood but he looks dead serious.

"She always says she can't remember how she survived but it's still near impossible for the body to go through such physical pain and strain and come out of with the heart still beating intact."

His answer makes me wonder what her gift is. But before I can form another coherent thought, my mind goes blank as an ear-shattering, heart-breaking scream echoes through my head.

**I'm expecting lots of reviews :) Next chapter of The Muppet Show will be up on Sunday if I get reviews from my favourite readers = ****all of you :)**

**xxx-benedictbrothersfan-xxx: I hope you appreciate the mention Jared Greenberg - Coach's two least favourite people :P Totally got inspired by Teen Wolf for once ;) **


	5. Chapter 5

**Disclaimer: None of the Benedicts/the Savant World belong to me. All rights to Joss Stirling. **

**WARNING: Again, there are some descriptions of violence in this chapter though not as much as in Chapter 4 but if you don't want to read it, you can just skim it. **

**Anyway, sorry I haven't updated in a while. I was on holiday in Ireland without Wi-Fi so that was quite a refreshing time :) **

Chapter Five – Leah POV

„The thing is, my dear Miss Andersson" Abdul leans even closer and I can smell the alcohol on his breath so strongly I have to fight back gagging. "Your Victor Benedict works for our American friends in the FBI and we have recently found out that he is the leading and driving force behind an investigation that is working on 'uncovering' our little … business organization."

"What do you mean _my _Victor Benedict? I have never heard of him."

"Liar!"

His yell echoes through the cell, accompanied by the dull thud of my head being slammed against the concrete wall.

"We know exactly what your relationship to Mr Benedict is." Abdul, despite his pitiful appearance, manages to make himself seem impossibly terrifying.

I want to say that I have no idea what they're talking about but my head hurts so much that I can't even think of the right words to say. Instead, I shake my head ever so carefully. Another punch right in the gut.

"Are you telling us that you think we're the ones lying?" Aamir pulls back his fist again, this time hitting my shoulder so hard I hear a crack and stabbing pain shoots up to my brain. Again the light above flickers and I feel less weak.

"Aamir!" Abdul lays a perfectly manicured hand on his son-in-laws shoulder and pulls him back. "Violence is not the answer, son."

I manage a wheezy laugh at the irony but am quickly reprimanded by a knife carving another letter into my arm. However, I hardly feel anything. The first sign of death being close – complete numbness to physical pain.

"Listen, Miss Andersson. Our source, a very reliable one might I add, has let slip that you and Victor Benedict share a very special bond."

Bond? We've never even met. But again, my mouth refuses to cooperate.

"He's your soulfinder."

"What the hell are you talking about? What is a soulfinder?" The absurdity of his last sentence makes my brain work again for a short while.

Abdul throws a glance behind him, at a young man who has kept his head down for most of today's session. The man nods and quickly averts his eyes before they become fixed on my mangled body.

Abdul lets out a gasp and forces me to look at him by pulling back my hair.

"You really have no idea." It isn't a question.

I repress an eye roll and let out a groan as he lets go of my head so abruptly that it snaps back to my chest.

"Unbelievable!"

_So, you've never done telepathy before either. _

A voice, his voice … but his mouth didn't move. That isn't possible. No. NO. How… what is …

_Judging by your shocked expression, I'm assuming the answer is no. _

No, no, no. What is this? Some sick trick? How is he doing it?

His cold, brown eyes stare right into mine, as if … as if he was staring right into my soul.

I sense the freedom of my hands and feet as their restraints are cut open but I don't move. I can't. He…. He was speaking to me in my mind. That shit isn't possible. no, no, no, no, no, no! This can't be happening. But it is. And I can't stop my body from toppling out of the chair, onto the cold, blood-splattered floor. And for the first time since I was taken here, I give way to the darkness consuming me.

* * *

><p>I awake from the icy water that is splashed on my face. I have no idea how long I've been out but I'm more concerned about the fact how badly my wounds are stinging from their first contact with water in days.<p>

"Rise and shine, sweetheart. You're moving."

I shake my head to get the water out of my eyes and ears and twist my head to see who's talking. Aamir, Abdul's son-in-law, is pulling me by my hair and runs his hand along my front, clearly enjoying the way I shudder away in disgust.

"What a shame that Abdul won't let me enjoy you before you go."

"Go where?" I ask, trying to shake off the hand that is working its way down from my neck to my chest.

"You'll see, sweetheart."

He leads me out of the cell and starts tugging and pushing me into various hallways and tunnels, thankfully keeping his hands to himself as another guard, the youngest one I've seen here, joins us, a rifle against my back. As if I was in any fit state to fight now - they made sure of that.

Along the way, I have to stop and lean against a wall to puke out the bread I got for breakfast, though this time I become worried as chunks of blood accompany the pieces of bread.

"Get a move on, sweetheart. We don't want to be late on your big day."

Aamir turns one final corner and tugs me through a creaking, wooden door that opens into a courtyard of some sort.

The sun. The sky. I'd almost forgotten what the outside world looked like. On a podium in the middle of the yard stands large object covered by a dirty piece of loin cloth. Next to it, Abdul in what look like his best clothes, staring at me maliciously.

"Well, well, what have we here?" He holds out one hand, obviously to help me up onto the podium though I doubt that my shoulders can survive me lifting my arms. So two other guards grab me under my armpits, I have to smirk as they cringe at the dried sweat that has gathered there, and heave me up onto the podium, making me fall on my knees at Abdul's feet.

"See, my dear Miss Andersson, we have been watching you for a while now. My men have told me all about your … survival skills."

Oh, shit. I keep my head bowed on my knees to avoid the eye contact I know he wants.

"We took you because you are our connection to Victor Benedict – at least we thought so. So now, as we have all established that you truly have no idea about Savants and soulfinders, let alone Victor Benedict, you have proven to be completely useless to us now."

I try to ignore the sinking feeling in my stomach because I know what's about to happen. I've heard the guards talk about it.

"Naturally, we cannot possibly let you go, so we have come up with a method of … execution you couldn't possibly survive. That rules out guns, electrocution, torture… Can you guess what it is?"

Now I raise my head and I know the look on my face is exactly what he wants to see.

"How can you make a game out of this?"

He ignores my question and gives a hand signal to three scantily-clad women on the other side of the massive machine-like object.

"You don't want to play? Well then, ladies, if you will."

The white sheet is pulled back swiftly to reveal a guillotine. I almost let out a laugh of relief but at the same time, a mix of emotion fill me up. A little voice in the back of my head whispers that this is what I wanted. I joined the army to be rid of parents, to eliminate myself before I get stuck in an asylum. Then the bigger voice just screams in protest. It is a scream so loud it fills up my mind, it stops all the junk flying around it and replaces it with a very graphic image of my head, rolling around this podium. I let the scream consume me, block out Abdul and Aamir's laughter. And then, I let the scream out of my mind and into the open.

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	6. Chapter 6

**Disclaimer: None of the Savant World/the Benedicts belong to me – all rights to Joss Stirling. **

**Thank you for all your lovely reviews on both this story and the Muppet Show. Reviews make my day and inspire and motivate me to keep on writing. **

**WARNING: There are descriptions of violence (& its consequences later on) so it might be a bit too graphic though I've tried to keep it as … okay as possible :) **

Chapter Six – Vic POV

The thing that jolts me back into the real world is an oblivious soldier who bumps into me, not having realised that I'd stopped abruptly. Lieutenant Russell slows down as well and turns around to give me a questioning look.

"I heard something" I whisper and swing my head around to look at the surrounding buildings and clay huts. As if that can tell me anything.

Out of the corner of my eye, I see Russell roll his eyes and he lets out a barely audible sigh.

"Kid, this isn't hide and seek we're playing. You can't say you heard something whenever a goddamn cat farts around here. I myself did not hear anything and I've been in the army for twenty years. Now, if we –"

"Shut up, I heard something."

I can hear the other soldiers' gasps at me talking to their superior like that but at the moment, I don't care. That scream, that scream was full of pain, despair and hopelessness. That scream came from my soulfinder. If Will were here, he could -

"Mr Benedict, why –"

"There." I call out and point at a rather large building at the end of the street, seemingly closed if the boards in front of the windows are anything to go by. A young boy appears out of a cul-de-sac running alongside the house though his eyes widen at the sight of us and he quickly scurries away into another small, run-down hut.

"How d'you know?"

Another soldier, about 18 years old I would have guessed, asks and I can tell he looks scared. So do the rest of them.

"I-"What was I gonna say? That the love of my life is being held captive there and it's pure gut feeling?

"Does it matter? I know she's in there so we have to go –"

"Mr Benedict." Russell's deep commanding voice stops me immediately.

"Yes, sir?" I respond and try not to sound too impatient.

"A word." He says and nods towards a sign post stating Farah being about four miles away.

"Look, sir. I know this doesn't quite follow procedure but you have to –"

"Why?"

"Why what?" I stutter and have to catch myself quickly. He cannot see me become flustered or confused.

"Why are you so intent, so eager to get Sergeant Andersson back?"

"I told you, she is important in an ongoing investigation of which the content is totally confidential."

"Is there any other level of confidential other than totally?" Russell asks with a scowl on his face as if

I've just treated him like a child. "Now answer the question properly, kiddo!"

I see the look in his eyes. He's just as eager to get Leah back, like a father he's worried about her. He looks me straight in the eye and I know I can't possibly lie to him any longer.

"Okay, there is another reason but Lieutenant, you have to trust me on this. I don't know Leah yet but she's already incredibly important to me and my family. And when we go in there" I don't even contemplate the idea of an 'if', "you'll probably see things that you can't explain with any physical or mathematical laws. I will act differently, the people inside will be acting differently but you have to promise me to not question any of it. It'll all be for Leah's best."

"Benedict, I'm in the army, I trust no one but my soldiers. And we're not gonna see freaking werewolves and vampires in there so what is it that can't be explained by Physics or Maths?"

"Sir, I'm truly sorry that I'm asking you for this but you have to – _have to _– trust me. We'll be doing the right thing." _**Trust me. **_I hate myself for it but as I see the confusion and irritating stare in his eyes clear, I know it's for the best.

"Alright, men..."

* * *

><p>The sound is unbearable yet barely audible. The blood being splattered on the walls sickens me yet strengthens my resolve. Russell, who's just knocked out a guard he's just questioned, nods at me, saying nothing but "Court yard at the end of the main hall".<p>

I run, somehow feeling a piece of me growing weaker and weaker, and when I reach the doorway, I don't think. Bursting through, I raise my rifle without taking a look at my surroundings first. A bunch of Afghan men stand around a stage, too enamoured by the action on it to have time to pull their weapons before I pull the trigger. The first bullet hits a young man's shoulder, the second a guard's ribcage, the third and fourth a slightly older man's legs. I lose count but I stop when I realise that I only have one more left, weapon raised, I walk closer to the stage. A guillotine… a guillotine standing tall and overpowering on the stage and from where I'm standing, I can only see tangles of hair that might have been blonde one day hanging through the head opening. It's her. It has to be. I know it. It's her.

"Victor Benedict"

My head snaps around to see a balding, mildly intimidating oompa-loompa waddling towards me. I lift my rifle a bit higher though that just makes him laugh.

"You're not going to shoot me."

"Let her go."

"Why should I?"

"She's mine." I growl through gritted teeth and mentally restrain my index finger from pressing down.

"So possessive, Benedict. I don't think she cares. You see, she told me in one of our … sessions, she, I quote, _doesn't give a flying fuck about Victor Benedict._"

I pretend it doesn't hurt. I pretend that hearing those words – and knowing on instinct that they're true – does not drive a piping hot spear through my soul.

_**Let her go.**_

I try not to let my surprise show as his eyes become slightly vacant and he gives the headsman a shake of the head. I sprint up on stage to catch her from toppling over after the opening is pulled up and flinch at the feel of her every bone under my fingers. Russell, who has just appeared in the archway, for once looks like he's feeling something. He rushes up the steps and quickly grabs her under her armpits, gesturing for me to grab her legs. As we move through the courtyard and towards the exit, with Leah's limp body swaying from side to side between us, I get a good look at her. Large bruises, deep cuts and barely healed flesh wounds make her facial features almost unrecognisable. Blood has crusted in her dirty and felted hair and her torn tank top and camouflage trousers are covered in dried blood, vomit and sweat. I work in law enforcement but I've never seen anything like this. Seeing my soulfinder, my other half so mangled and ill, builds up this enormous rage inside of me, one that I can barely control. Russell, who's probably seen my hands shaking, just says, "She'll be alright. She's tough."

I look back. I've still got one bullet. I aim. I pull the trigger.

**I've always seen Victor as becoming slightly OOC when he finally meets his soulfinder but I'm not sure whether this is too much OOC or not at all so … Please let me know what you think in some (=a lot of) reviews – they mean a lot :) **


	7. Chapter 7

**Disclaimer: None of the Benedicts/the Savant World belong to me – all rights to Joss Stirling :) **

**Thanks to guest (Nitte), Pirate Kazumi, LittleLily99 and xxx-benedictbrothersfan-xxx for reviewing on the latest chapter, it means so much to me :) **

**WARNING: Descriptions of consequences of violence and vague ones about acts of violence – nothing explicit or graphic though, so you're pretty much safe the whole way through. **

Chapter Seven – Leah POV

On the eve of my first bad night, I thought about death. How old I would be, what it would feel like. I was five and it felt so far away. I am twenty-six and I've already got a foot over the threshold. There is an insistent throbbing throughout the whole of my body, reminding with every breath and movement that I am literally at death's door. I thought I would be in the hospital wing. Why are there these odd flowers around my feet? How funny. A small chuckle escapes my mouth and I erupt in laughter. Everything here looks so much greener here… Ooh and look at those mountains. So big and majestic. I bet one could have a good time skiing there. And who's that? I squint slightly to bring him into focus but that just makes the daisies move all funny and I giggle. I didn't know daisies could belly-dance. The figure approaches me and smiles at me, like I'm Christmas and birthdays wrapped in one. All I can make out from his clothes is his jacket, navy blue with an odd combination of letters stitched on. Wait… is that … that's an F there and next to it… an I? How odd… Such a handsome face.

"Andersson?"

Slowly, the man turns his back and retreats to a motorbike standing at the side of a forest track. Don't go!

"Andersson?"

"Don't go" I hear myself mumble and blink a few times before my eyes are willing to open completely.

"Andersson, can you hear us?"

"Shut up. I'm dreaming such nice things at the moment." I can hear a small intake of breath and grin.

"It's the morphine speaking, Captain-"

"I am aware of that, Lieutenant, thank you for your words of wisdom." The sarcastic, demanding tone jolts me awake at once.

My arm however doesn't quite reach my forehead and I wince before letting it fall limp on the mattress.

"Good to see you haven't lost your discipline, Sergeant."

"Why would I have, Captain?" I ask and blindly reach for a glass of water.

"Do you remember what happened, Sergeant?" Belgrave asks and for the first time in my eight years of service looks at me with something like affection.

"I … I was taken away."

"Correct. What were you doing outside the premises?"

"Captain." Russell's quiet voice gently cuts into the conversation. "This is not a police interrogation. We have someone else here to do that."

"Fine. What did they do to you?"

"Captain, really, is this the time?"

"Honestly, Lieutenant. She is not twelve and I will not treat her like she's wrapped in cotton wool. We need to know. She's the only one who can tell us. There you have your answer."

"Lieutenant, it's fine." I try to reassure him and he gives me a half-smile.

"Do you want a detailed description because they keep files back at the house?"

"Er… no, thank you. Just roughly recount the events of the last couple of days."

"I was taken. First day, two sessions, punching and hitting, nothing more. Second day, four sessions, pulling, poking and carving. Third day, six sessions, punching, throwing, carving, electrocution and drawing. Anything else?"

I can see by the way their faces lock in this seemingly stony expression of disbelief and disgust that they don't know how to deal with my bluntness but I'm past caring.

"Did they… you know…" Russell fumbles the words and has to gesture to certain body parts for me to understand.

"No, they didn't rape me." He lets out an audible sigh of relief and I grin at him.

"What did they want from you?" Belgrave asks and pulls out a tattered notepad.

"Wait a minute. I'm sure the agent will be interested in hearing this. Listen, I'm gonna bring in an FBI agent, he's been sitting by your bed for days now, he seems quite eager to meet you."

I shrug and take another sip of water. The door opens and oh my god, kill me now. Such a handsome face… I don't even twitch as the lamp bulb from the bedside table bursts, tiny pieces of glass scattering around the various pill boxes.

"Oh, crap. I'll better go change that. Captain, where do we keep the spare ones?"

"Before you go around getting yourself kidnapped, I might as well come with you."

He gives the handsome face a stern glance and curt nod before shutting the door behind him with a bang.

"Hi" He says nervously and holds out his hand formally though when I nod towards my arm in a cast, he pulls his back with a small smile.

"I'm Victor. Victor Benedict."

The flashbacks take over my mind, and I can't stop myself from screaming.

* * *

><p>Vic POV<p>

The door bursts open and Captain Belgrave and Lieutenant Russell barge in, shoving me aside in their hurry to get to Leah, who's starting to writhe and shake all over the bed. Little beads of sweat are forming around her eyebrows and she squeezes her eyes tightly shut, as if she's trying to regain control over her body.

"What's happening? What's happening to her?" I ask but no one answers.

Her screams slowly ebb away and soon, all one can hear are small whimpers and sobs coming from the tangle of blankets and pillows around her head.

"What was that? Is she alright?" I don't care about etiquette and ignore Russell's tense posture as I grab him by the shoulder, forcing him to look at me.

"What is wrong with her?"

At that moment, she open her eyes and looks right into mine. Her mouth widens again and before I know it, I'm being dragged away to the door as the screaming starts up again.

"What the hell? She needs me!" Russell gives me a funny look before shoving me out onto the hallway.

"PTSD, Benedict. She needs rest and pain killers."

What? No! No! I give up banging on the door and slump down against the wall. Why me? Why would she scream at the sight of me? What happened with those men? I know a little from my research in the FBI but what do they know?

And as the shrieks die down, I can't stop my eyes from falling shut.

* * *

><p>"Agent!" I jump at the sound of Belgrave's voice and instinctively pull a fist to punch Xav who would at this moment start laughing his ass off.<p>

"Yes, sir?"

"Stop hovering around the door and follow me."

"Is that such a good idea? I mean, the last time she saw me, she had a breakdown." Not that I'm desperate to see her, I just think it would create an odd image that was hard to explain.

"I don't care. She's going back the US."

"On leave?" I ask and struggle to hide the dreading tone.

"She's being discharged. Honourably, of course." His gruff tone doesn't even hint at affection but I can see it in his face. It's quite a load off his mind to know that she'll be safe.

"You'll be taking the same plane to Denver, where you will part ways. Any evidence and interviews you need, you'll better get on the plane."

"Where will she be going?" I ask and push down the hope of her staying with me. I've just found my soulfinder and she's mentally completely instable.

"Her folks live in Colorado Springs. About an hour's drive –"

"Yeah, I know" I say. "Sir." I add after the withering look he gives me.

* * *

><p>"But, Captain. I could go on leave. I'll be as good as new in a couple of weeks." I can hear Leah's voice from the other end of the corridor and slow down, not wanting to startle her.<p>

"No, Sergeant. Your injuries are too severe, some will take years to heal. You've been through a lot and I'm sorry to say, you're not completely stable to go out again."

"What's that-?"

"Benedict."

I see Leah flinch at my name but she takes a deep breath and turns around to face me. With her face wiped free of all the grime and blood, she looks absolutely beautiful. Her shoulder-length, curly blonde hair is freshly washed and tied back in a tight ponytail, giving me perfect view of her heart-shaped face and startling blue eyes.

"Miss Andersson…" Hesitating slightly, I hold out my hand but she just stares at it.

"You're supposed to say your name, I already know mine."

Wow. Was not expecting that.

"You already know my name."

"No. Say it again."

Bossy much?

"Victor Benedict." Her sharp intake of breath shows that my name still has an odd effect on her but otherwise, her face shows no reaction.

"Who's that?" She nods at someone over my shoulder and I roll my eyes as I notice Greenberg hovering against the door.

"That's my assistant, Jared Greenberg. He's –"

"I'm going with him." Just like that, she limps past me and at once, engages in conversation with the dim twit.

I try to ignore that feeling of jealousy piercing its way through my soul.

* * *

><p>"Which direction are you going?" I ask and check her face as she scans the arrivals area for a familiar face.<p>

"I… I'm gonna wait here for a little bit." She replies, barely looking at me.

"Is someone picking you up?"

"… Yeah… someone."

"Your parents?"

"Quit interrogating. We're not in an FBI office."

"Listen, I don't know what you've been told about me but I can assure you, I'm on your side. I always will be." That's about as close as it gets to a declaration of love. "I just wanted to say, if you don't have anywhere to stay tonight, you can stay at my apartment. I'll take the living room, you the bed, and we'll get you home in the morning."  
>I can tell she's struggling to even consider my offer but am positively surprised when she nods.<p>

"Greenberg smells of onions and you don't, so …"

It's a start.

**So, I actually had no idea what a person who's high on morphine actually sees so I just mixed some film experience together. **

**Please review :) Thanks so much for all your lovely reviews, also on Band of Thieves – you're the best! **


	8. Chapter 8

**Disclaimer: None of the Savant World/the Benedicts – all right to Joss Stirling :)**

**Woohoo, new chapter up here as well! Hope you like it :) **

**By the way, a helpful reviewer pointed out that Leah's eye colour is inconsistent – once they were blue, once they were green – to clear it up: I hereby declare Leah Andersson's eyes as being blue!**

Chapter Eight – Leah POV

His apartment is nothing like I expected it to be. Actually I actively tried not to imagine anything but as the only thing we said to each other on the car ride over was 'You mind if I switch the radio on?-No' I had no choice but to let my brain wander around. I expected a perfectionist's flat – white, high walls, a glass coffee table, linen sheets and an Italian coffeemaker. I did not by any means imagine an incredibly homely feeling atmosphere the moment one walked through the door. Crooked pictures are sloppily hung in carved frames, always showing the same bunch of people, always looking like they'd been passed around a lot around a dinner table at Thanksgiving or Christmas. I did not expect a collection of every CD known to mankind to be in his apartment, ranging from Mozart and Bach, over Débussy and Schönberg and over Frank Sinatra and Aretha Franklin to Bruno Mars and Metallica. I did not at all expect the safe feeling that sweeps over my body the instant I cross the threshold. Like I know that nothing can happen to me here.

"You can take the bed, I'll just get you some fresh towels and clothes. Are you thirsty or hungry?"

I don't want to smile at his eagerness but I almost can't help it. Almost.

"Just feeling the strong desire to have a shower."

Victor gives me curt nod and just points at the door leading off from the living room.

* * *

><p>When I die I hope I'll go to heaven. Heaven where they have showers like this with massage functions and exactly the right pressure and warm, freaking boiling water. My whole body feels like it's on fire as I let fresh water run over my wounds, scars and burns and I have to suppress the tears. I don't dry my body with the towel knowing that scrubbing my skin will just make it worse. I use his shampoo, rinsing my hair three or four times. I feel like I've been a walking stink bomb for eight years.<p>

Victor is sitting in front of his laptop when I enter the kitchen clad in one of his shirts and sweatpants that I had to roll up quite a few times. He quickly shuts his laptop and I'm reminded of what Abdul said about his investigation against him. Then again, yesterday, those words he said, "I'll always be on your side", spoken with such earnestness and sincerity, that something about them just forces me to believe them.

"Are you-?"

"What's a Savant?" I ask and have to stifle a giggle at the look of surprise on his usually so stoic face.

"Who told you?"

"I'm asking you. Why does it matter who told me?"

"Because it matters what already know?"

"Why would I ask you if I knew something already? Seriously, I thought you were supposed to be some amazingly smarty-pants agent", I turn around to leave, slightly disappointed, when his next three words shock me to standing still.

"You are one."

"What am I?"

"You're like me, like my entire family… like… the man who had you kidnapped."

"Abdul."

Victor winces at the familiarity with which I say his name but nods nonetheless.

"What is different about you?"

"About us, you mean."

"As far as I can tell, I'm not one of you." My walls have gone up again.

"We", he frowns at my scowl but continues anyway, "have the power of telekinesis, meaning we can move stuff with our minds, and telepathy, meaning that we can …"

"…speak to each other in your minds." I fade off, having a violent flashback of how Abdul did it to me the first time.

"What other power do you have?"

"Each Savant has another individual power. My brothers have stuff like seeing the future, healing, the ability to trace an object or see the past…" He stops and looks like he knows what my next question is going to be.

"What power do _you _have?"

"Compulsion."

He doesn't even flinch when the lamp above the dining table explodes.

* * *

><p>It's him again. His slimy, shining face comes close and closer to mine and I can feel drops of his sweat on my skin. <em>Now, sweetheart, tell me what you know. <em>His sweat mixes with my blood coming out of various cuts on my shoulders and chest and I struggle to keep the tears from falling. _Tell me what you know about Victor Benedict or I'll rip head off and stuff his heart down his neck. _I can't hold in the scream as Vic's mangled and bloody body appears out of thin air and is thrown onto me. _No, no, no! _

"Shhh, shhh, it's okay. It's okay. You're safe. You're safe."

Not caring about anything about him that might have been drilled into my brain I cling to his strong arms as he holds me tightly against his chest, wiping away the tears with one hand.

"It's okay. Shhhhh. I'm here."

And it's those two words that make me feel okay again.

**What'd you think? I look forward to many reviews, hopefully, because if we get up to 35, I will post one (maybe even two chapters) on Christmas :) **


	9. Chapter 9

**I'm so sorry that I've waited so long to update but I'm planning to get a couple more chapters of all my stories up in the next couple of days so… please accept my apologies. Thank you so much to everyone who left such kind reviews – they make my day :) **

**This chapter may seem a bit OOC for Vic but seeing as meeting the love of your life can kinda change you, I hereby excuse his behaviour :)**

**Disclaimer: None of the Benedicts/the Savant World belong to me – all rights to Joss Stirling! **

Chapter Nine – Vic POV

"Do you want to call anyone?" I ask in the tentative tone that Sky has been trying to teach me. Leah is hunched over the dinner table, gobbling up Cheerios like the apocalypse is near. Or maybe because she hasn't eaten any in over eight years, I'm sure. She doesn't look up at my question but I can guess from the movement of her hair that it's a 'No'. Same as every morning. She definitely has family, I checked the moment we got back from the airport, but for some reason she has no desire whatsoever to contact them.

"Your family needs to know you're back in the country."

"No, they don't" She mumbles and finally lifts her head. The injuries on her torso, legs and arms have 'reduced' to startling red, fleshy scars but every time I look at her, her face seems to be one big open wound even though the bruises have faded, the knocked-out teeth have been replaced, the nose straightened and the swelling has reduced. I know that such a traumatic experience is incredibly hard and difficult to deal with but I had no idea one could see it so clearly in the person's face. I've seen a lot during my time at the FBI but this … Perhaps it's due to my emotional attachment to the person in question but …

"Why don't you tell me a bit about your family background?" I try to approach this as professionally as possible seeing as I have to prepare her for the stuff she's gonna hear this afternoon.

"I can think of exactly 234 reasons why and I believe we have an appointment to get to so if I'm doing my math correctly we are not even going to get through the first 12 reasons on our way to wherever we're going."

"Well, we're going to be going to my office at the FBI and I know how to avoid every shortcut."

Her mouth curves into an almost smile but stops before it reaches her eyes.

"Shouldn't I be wearing something slightly more … sophisticated, then, if we're gonna visit a government agency?"

"Believe me, my colleagues and I have seen worse."

"What a real charmer you are. I'm gonna go brush my teeth and meet you her in a sec."

"You'll need three minutes if I remember correctly from Elementary School."

"You've obviously never lived real life before." She calls over her shoulder and disappears into the bathroom.

I can't believe I just made a Xav-corny joke in front of my soulfinder. Rubbing my eyes, I clear the table and reach for my shoes. _You've never lived real life before._ I always thought that out of all my brothers, I'd seen it all, been out there in the real world, fighting crime, but when I think about what Leah must have gone through, spending eight years of her life in a warzone, the only fitting, yet still mild word I can think of, is hell.

* * *

><p>"Ms Andersson, my name is Special Agent Fred Glutheim. I'll be interviewing you today."<p>

"More like questioning."

I stifle a snigger behind the double-mirrored glass and try to focus. Hopefully, we'll be getting some real clues and information this time though right now, I can totally see our new agent Fred being torn to pieces.

"One could call it that, I guess. Andersson, quite an unusual name here in America." I roll my eyes. First lesson of training – don't do small talk.

"Not really, didn't you have history in High School?"

_He's so going down. _I turn around to see Xav leaning against doorframe, grinning at Glutheim.

_She's a tough one. _

"Well, yes, but …"

Second lesson of training – don't let the interviewee get the upper hand.

"Get to the point, Freddy, I'm hungry."

"What's your family background?"

"Mother German, father Danish, me born in Colorado Springs, temporarily lived in North Germany until I was eight, moved back, enlisted in the army when I turned 18, been there ever since."

"Why did your parents decide to leave Germany?"

She hesitates, quickly glancing at the double-mirrored glass as if she can sense my presence. I told her about this specific Savant-unit, that she can say anything she wants but I can see she still has trouble grasping the concept that it's so natural for us.

"There was an accident involving my … p…powers but don't bother asking me anymore about it because you won't be getting any info from me."

Fred knows better than to argue with her.

"I saw that when you were on leave from the army, you never, in eight years, returned to Colorado. You visited the Easter Islands, South America and Mongolia but never once visited your family. Why is that?"

"Apparently, absence does not make the heart grow fonder."

"If you could stop speaking in riddles-"

Third lesson of training – don't do 'if-clauses'.

"If that saying is a riddle for you, you really shouldn't be here, doing this job."

"Listen here, Miss, -"

Seeing that Fred has lifted himself out of his chair and is leaning over the table in a way that probably brings back quite recent, unpleasant memories, I rush next door and pull Leah behind me.

"Fred, back off, I told you she would be difficult to talk to."

"You didn't tell me she'd be such a stuck-up bitch –"

My fist connects with his jaw before my brain even has the chance to consider any other options.

_Vic! Take it easy! _Xav's voice brings me back to a certain extent and I force myself to let go of Leah, who stiffened the second I touched her.

"She fought for this country, she was willing to give up her life for her country, she's done more in her short life that you will ever in yours so I recommend you back the hell up and leave her alone."

Fred gives me the stink-eye but shuffles away rather quickly, holding his bottle of water against his jaw.

I turn around to find Leah staring at me and I can't help but stare right back, almost losing myself in those brilliant blue eyes.

"Hey-y'all, I'm Xav."

Murdering my brother in the FBI office probably isn't a good idea…

**Next chapter will definitely be up within the next 36 hours (I'm a night-writer) :) **

**Please review! **


	10. Chapter 10

**Disclaimer: None of the Benedicts/the Savant World belong to me – all rights to Joss Stirling!**

Chapter Ten – Leah POV

Turns out that whole 'handsome face' thing extends through the whole family. Tall, brooding and mysterious is exactly how to characterize the Benedict brothers. Xav's face I can easily place with his name as he was the first I met and the first I wanted to punch (besides Vic of course). Each of the brothers have their girlfriends/wives with them, all except two of them. Zed and his girlfriend Sky look so different they automatically seem perfect for each other, Yves and Phoenix have that fitting puzzle-piece look about them and Xav and Crystal hold hands even when they're arguing, which is a lot. I find it odd, that all the guys have found someone so obviously perfect for them at such a young age but hey, I've seen weirder shit.

"No need to remember all the names just yet, dear", a petite yet fierce-looking woman I remember as Vic's mother Karla says and gently pats my arm, "I know it can be terribly confusing at first."

I manage a weak smile, overwhelmed by the hospitality and kindness Vic's family have shown me in the last couple of hours. Although Karla's 'just yet' does confuse me.

"So… not to be rude or anything but why exactly am I meeting Vic's … I mean Agent Benedict's family." I try to ignore the hurt look that fleetingly crosses Vic's face and carry on, "What exactly do you have to do with my being tortured?"

They all flinch at my casual mentioning torture but I decide to ignore it. They don't have to deal with it.

"We're still trying to find out what exactly the group wanted from you but I figure it's got something to do with your gift." Vic says though he refuses to look me in the eye.

"But I don't even know what my gift is. What use is that to them?" I ask confused.

"That's exactly why I've brought you here to meet my family. Your gift obviously has something to with electricity or electron control."

Obviously….?

"And Yves here has a similar gift with which he can control fire and heat generally."

'Cause that doesn't sound mildly terrifying.

"So he might be able to help you figure out yours and get it under your control."

"Why can't you just put me under witness protection and send me to … I dunno … Uzbekistan or somewhere."

"As long as you can't control your powers, you're a ticking bomb for everyone near you." Vic replies, now staring me right in the face.

"Talk about giving it to her straight, Vic." One of the brothers mutters.

"What, Will?" Suddenly, Vic seems to be much more agitated and irritated. "She needs to know that this isn't some sort of fantasy game. And it sure as hell won't be fun when she blows up an entire neighbourhood just 'cause she's watching a scary movie."

"Language, Vic!" Karla interrupts him but I've had enough.

"Listen here, Agent, I'm still here so I can hear what shit – sorry Karla – you're saying about me and I want to ask you a question: Do you seriously think that after eight years in Afghanistan, after being tortured non-stop for three days, I think this is a fucking game? Don't you dare treat me like a child, just because I have no freaking idea what the hell is wrong with my genetics to make me the freak that I am! Don't you dare patronize me!"

Muttering a quick apology to Karla, thanking her for the meal, I storm out and head out towards the woods next to the Benedicts' house.

* * *

><p>Vic POV<p>

_That went well, Vic. Congrats! _

Zed's sarcastic tone cuts into my mind and I'm almost too ashamed to look at Mom's disappointed face.

_Victor Benedict, you go after that girl right now and apologize. I want to see you begging for forgiveness on your knees if that's what it takes. _

_Mom…! _

_That girl is your soulfinder for heaven's sake! _

_Exactly! She's already taking this whole Savant thing pretty hard. What d'you think'll happen when I tell her that she's stuck with me for the rest of her life. _

_Don't go wallowing in self-loathing, Vic, it doesn't suit you. No matter what anyone tells you, you're still my baby boy and you deserve to be happy. _

_I thought Zed was the baby of the family. _

_He usually is but at the moment he's being more mature than you. _

_Ha! _

I ignore Zed's triumphant exclamation and give Mom a kiss on the forehead before I head out of the door.

* * *

><p>"Can I sit next to you without you punching me?" I ask and carefully sit down on the log she's crouched on.<p>

"Depends what comes out of that big, self-important mouth of yours."

"Okay, I guess, I deserved that."

"Yes, you did." She turns to look at me and I can see that she's been crying. Way to go, Vic!

"Listen, Leah, I'm really sorry. I shouldn't have talked about you the way I did and I shouldn't have talked _to _you the way I did. And I'm really sorry that I made you cry."

"Don't flatter yourself, Benedict, I have a pollen allergy."

I refrain from letting her know that it's actually winter so her argument is totally invalid.

"I … I'm just really confused and scared right now, and your patronizing doesn't help."

I doubt she's ever been this honest.

"For that I'm really sorry."

"I've been treated like a freak my entire life. The army was the first real family I knew and you tore me out of it."

"Me?" How the hell did I do that?

"You were the whole damn reason they tortured me. They kept asking me stuff about you, saying your name, saying stuff about a 'connection' even though I had no idea who you were… That's why I was so freaked when you introduced yourself the first time."

It does explain the screaming fit.

"What did they mean?" She asks after a long pause.

"Mean by what?" I do however dread the direction this conversation is going in.

"When they said stuff like how you were mine and I was yours. Something about … not soulmates… something else…"

"Soulfinders?" I ask carefully and she looks at me questioningly with her big blue eyes.

"Yeah, exactly. What does that mean?"

Awkward silence.

"When a Savant is conceived, his or her counterpart is conceived as well. That could be in the house next door or on the other side of the world. More often than not, it's the second. Soulfinders complete each other, they are the perfect match for each other, bonded for life."

"What? But that's like a universally arranged marriage! That's totally –"

Her brain's following up.

"Oh, shit!"

Not the reaction I'd been hoping for.

"When they said we were … Does that mean we're …"

"Afraid so."

…

That's when she gets up and without another word heads back towards the house. And I stay sitting on that log pretending my heart hasn't been totally crushed.

* * *

><p><em>Vic!<em>

Yves' insistent, panicked voice tears me out of my sleep at once.

_What?_

_It's Leah, she's… _

It's all I need and in an instant I'm sprinting down the hallway to the room Leah is sharing with Phee. Yves is standing outside holding a shaking Phee in his arms. Checking briefly that Phee hasn't been hurt, I make my way into the room. Being careful not to step on the shards of glass lying around on the floor and not to get to close to the ceiling lamp that is now emitting red, hot sparks, I all but throw myself onto Leah who's thrashing around like she's having a serious fit.

"Please don't hurt me. It's too much." She whimpers and my heart aches at the fact that those aren't just nightmares, they're actual memories.

"Sshh, it's okay. I'm here. It's over." I gather her trembling, sweating body in my arms and not caring about etiquette or anything, start pressing kisses on her forehead and hair.

"I'm here. Nobody's gonna hurt you."

The spasms reduce to occasional twitching and I push her damp hair out of her face, trying to ignore how close we actually are.

I turn around to see the whole family gathered in the doorway and roll my eyes. I exchange a quick message with Xav, who tells me that physically she's fine and look towards Mom.

_I have to stay with her tonight. _

_I know. _

Zed telekinetically sweeps up the shards of glass and throws them in the bin before tactfully closing the door.

Gently, I tuck Leah under the covers and take a comforter from the cupboard, preparing my bed on the floor.

"You can sleep in the bed if you want." Her small voice cuts through the tense silence and I must have looked shell-shocked as she gives a little laugh and holds up the duvet in front of her.

"I just need someone to hold onto tonight."

So I become the little spoon and don't even feel a scratch on my masculine pride.

Just as I'm close to falling asleep, her whispered words make sure that my heart's gonna be wide awake for the rest of the night.

"You know, I'm kinda looking forward to the day I'm ready to fall in love with you."

**We're gonna be finding out more about Leah's past in the next few chapters and also her parents! **

**Please review! **


	11. Chapter 11

**Last chapter (haha got you there :P ) before I return to school after Easter break *cry face*… **

**Bit of fluff ;) **

Chapter Eleven – Leah POV

It scares me how natural we fit around each other. I've been living with the Benedict family for almost two weeks and I have to admit, I actually quite enjoy my lessons and healing sessions with Yves and Xav. I enjoy waking up every morning to Vic's steady breathing next to me (it's the only time we don't feel awkward being so close) and the clatter and chatter in the kitchen. I can sense the others' glances behind our backs. Exchanging meaningful looks and I know what they're referring to. When Vic and I are in the same room, we move like we know where the other's going to be before they do. The way we move around each other and seem to fit together is terrifying. What pleases me most of all, is that my 'gift' is almost under control. It was quite difficult at the beginning because Yves had to try to provoke me to see the extent of my gift but thankfully that phase is over and I'm more often than not able to direct and steer electrons and light with mere mind control – no emotion attached. Xav thinks that my gift has unintentionally saved me many times, my body automatically accumulating electricity from an external source to keep my heart beating. It's an odd feeling when I feel electricity pulsing through me, ready at my fingertips. It's the same feeling I get every night when Vic intertwines his fingers with mine.

"Hey!"

Speak of the devil.

"Hi!" I look up from the kitchen table and can't help the small smile forming on my face.

"Ready for the grilling?" Vic asks with a sarcastic grin.

"Huh?"

"D'you think you're ready to tell me a bit about your family?"

"I … I don't ..." My last interview with the FBI didn't go too well.

As if he's read my mind, he replies, "Don't worry, this isn't for the FBI or anything. I think Freddy won't be seeing you anytime soon." The wide smirk on his handsome face shows me that he isn't at all angry at me.

"I … Okay." I say and giggle at his raised eyebrow. "I'm serious. I won't call you stupid or insult your face or anything like that."

"Good to know. So, how about you just start wherever and I ask questions if I don't understand something?"

Nodding, I start my tale.

"As you know, I was born here but very quickly moved to North Germany with my parents. When I was about four, I showed signs of … my gift, I guess you'd call it. Moving the juice box without touching it, drawing pictures without picking up the crayons, stuff like that. After I played 'Eine Kleine Nachtmusik' for my parents on the piano, they started sending me from one psychiatrist to another. See, because I wasn't actually … sitting at the piano when I played the piece for them. The psychiatrists tried everything, some of their therapies I'm sure weren't even legal" I ignore Vic's flinch and try to carry on with a steady voice.

"When I was eight, one of my classmates, I remember her name, she was called Aycha, she was teasing and bullying me, called me … called me a 'freak' and stuff like that. I … I couldn't control it, next thing I knew there was electricity, a real bolt of lightning coming from the socket grazed Aycha's arm, burning the skin of. Aycha and some of her friends were convinced it was me and even my class teacher who'd always been so nice to me tugged me back from Aycha and told me to go to the principal's office. My parents took me out of school the next day and we moved back to the farm in Colorado Springs. And instead of spending my summer vacation on a beach in California, I spent mine in a mental institution which definitely 19th century in its methods. I was home schooled from then on and my mom, she … she didn't seem to realize I was stuck in a vicious circle. When I was under pressure, the lamp would explode, she would hit me, the oven would switch itself on, she would slap me, the timer would go off, and so on and so on. When I turned eighteen, I saw my chance to escape. I enlisted, my parents were glad I'd signed my own death sentence and I … I dunno why I did it exactly. Part of me wanted to escape but … I think …. Part of me wanted to die."

"Leah." Vic said in a worried voice but I shushed him.

"My whole life, I'd been told that I was a freak, that I deserved to die so I guess after a while, I started to believe it."

My heart stops for a split second when Vic suddenly moves from his chair on the opposite side of the table to kneel before me. Gently, he takes my face in his hands and leans his forehead against mine.

"Leah Andersson, you are the bravest, most beautiful, most courageous and lively person I've ever met. Don't you dare let anyone else tell you otherwise and convince you that you deserve to die."

All I manage is a nod before he presses his lips against mine. My – our – first kiss is everything I hoped for and much more. Our lips move together in perfect unison as though we've done this many times before and the invigorating feeling of love and being loved fills my body from head to toe. Vic pulls away first, leaving us both breathless and wanting more.

"Shit."

Not the first reaction I'm looking for but I overlook it when I see the guilty look on his face.

"I'm sorry. I just didn't want to rush you. I don't want to rush you. I mean – I want to wait until you're ready and I can totally – totally - understand if you … you don't want this yet…"

"Vic!" I say laughingly, secretly quite pleased that I can turn him – the brooding, authority-loving Victor – into this stammering mess.

"What?"

"Was I complaining?"

* * *

><p>"But you see, what I don't get is how you can be a Savant if neither of your parents are Savants."<p>

"Hhmm…" I've drifted off and am currently focusing on switching the bedside light off. One of my lessons today: where to with the electricity you've consumed.

"I mean, you said that neither your mother nor your father showed signs of any kind of telekinetic, telepathic or 'supernatural' abilities during your childhood."

"Would they have treated me the way they did if they had these gifts?"

Vic pulls me closer towards him as if to shield me from them if they burst through the door right now.

"We should contact them, talk to them."

"Vic, no, I don't want to."

"Leah, you don't have to come if you don't want to. But I need to talk to them… If we don't find out the source of our gift then we might never find out the full extent of it."

"Won't you grow tired of being with a ticking bomb, as you so nicely put it?" I ask and wriggle around to look him in the eye.

"Is this you acknowledging that I'm with you and you're with me?" Vic says smirking.

"Isn't that what this is?" My voice grows quieter with every word as my insecurities surface.

"Well, then I'll have to take you on a real date."

"With a candlelight dinner and a romantic stroll in the park? No, thanks."

"Well… what d'you want to do?"

"Paintball?" I ask hopefully and make my best puppy dog eyes at him.

"Hhmmm…" He pretends to contemplate my suggestion but I know I've already won him over.

"Pretty please? With a cherry on top?"

"No cherry but a visit to your parents."

I do a quick Pro/Con list – parents vs. paintball – in my head and even though one side really outweighs the other I go for paintball. Maybe I can combine paintball with parents…?

"Fine."

"Right answer, soulfinder."

And this time, I feel absolutely at peace with him calling me that.

**Action/suspense returning soon + meet the 'parents'! **

**Please review! :)  
>Thanks to xxx-benedictbrothersfan-xxx, Pirate Kazumi, nononononononono (enough no's?) and guest reviewers Rachel Harrison and Tahira for reviewing recently. <strong>


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